X-MEN ETERNITY

X-Factor #4: "Family Business"
Rated PG-13 for violence and language

by R. John Burke

X-Men Eternity Message Board: http://solofan.proboards76.com/index.cgi

DISCLAIMER: The X-Men are a copyright of Marvel Comics. I don't own them, but this is only non-profit fan fiction. No money is involved and no infringement is intended.

This is also partly a work of historical fiction; all characters are either fictitious or used fictitiously, and no infringement or insult is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: X-Men Eternity started (in Uncanny #1: The Shattering) with the events at the end of "House of M" and went in a different direction. Nothing that happened after that is cannon for our purposes, and in fact a few things have changed; the team is spread through time and space, and some characters who were dead, um, aren't. "X-Factor: Eternity" deals with the part of the team that has become trapped in an alternate 19^th Century America.

***************************************************************

New Orleans
Autumn 1861
Alternate Reality #915

Rogue climbed the darkened stairs of the Pontalba Building for the second time, and the first time by herself. She would have felt better with Remy beside her; he knew these people, knew what to expect from them, understood how they thought. But what she did now, she had to do alone. The man who'd given her the message had made it very clear that it was nobody else's business, and he hadn't looked like a fellow who wasted words on things that weren't important.

On the upper level, she stood for almost a full minute before a decaying wooden door before she could make herself knock.

"Entrez," said a thin voice.

The door creaked open. Rogue stepped inside. It wasn't what she expected.

From what she knew of Gambit's fellow thief Guillaume, she'd half thought his apartments would be like a witch doctor's hut, full of... potions or shrunken heads or something. Instead they were tastefully decorated with a number of expensive paintings and immaculately clean. The only things that really hinted at the man's antiquity were the shelves lining one entire wall: They were crammed with books, big and small, old and new, dusty and well-used. Guillaume sat in a rocking chair with one volume cradled in his arms, his gnarled hands flipping pages that had obviously been flipped many times before. Heaven only knew how he read them in the dimmest of light.

Guillaume quirked one gray eyebrow at her. It was nearly the only hair on his head. "Wondered when you'd be back, p'tit."

"Well, I sorta had an invitation."

"Tol' you it be my pleasure. Have a chair."

Rogue carefully pulled up a wooden chair across from the old man, folded her hands, and waited.

"Hot, hot last night," he said idly. "What de temperature, you reckon?"

"I dunno."

Guillaume leaned over his book, peering at her. "You got de power o' de sun, an' you don' know how hot it was? Miss de forest for de trees, cher."

"Storm's the weather-witch. I just beat up bad guys."

"Fo' true," said Guillaume, with a skeletal grin. "I'm told I'm in yo' debt."

Rogue shrugged. "Wasn't about you. We just wanted our friends back."

"You get 'em?"

Rogue hung her head. She knew she'd done her level best and that was some comfort, but she was still team leader. If her best wasn't good enough, everybody suffered.

She said, "One of 'em."

Guillaume nodded sagely. He flipped through the book again. "You know what dis be, cher? Dis be a record... Guild annals. Ain't but dis copy in de whole world, an' when I die, it die. Men give dey lives to know de secrets in here."

Rogue couldn't resist a peek at the pages. But she couldn't make anything out besides scrawled notes and some cryptic drawings. "Anything in there about a Slayer?"

Guillaume looked thoughtful. "Dat what he call his self now? Cocky li'l bebette, ain't he?"

"You do know him, then?"

"We say I know de reputation." Guillaume spread his hands. His next words came in an affected voice, startlingly free of his thick accept: "'Reputation, Iago, reputation... the immortal part of myself. What remains is base.' Dat be Shakespeare, cher. Smart fella, he."

Rogue waved it off. "He talked too much."

"We got dat in common, den." Guillaume reached out, seized one of Rogue's gloved hands in his own. He was an energy manipulator-- Rogue could feel him trigger her own powers, so that plasma burned right through the glove, leaving them touching-- flesh on flesh.

Rogue gasped. "How d'you..."

"Ought not talk t'you," Guillaume said, ignoring the question. "Dere be those who say I take an awful risk. Ought to mind my own affairs. When you get to be my age, you ignore most any damn thing you like. If you live dat long."

Rogue felt herself being drawn into those ancient eyes, and swallowed hard. "If you're really in my debt, Mr. Guillaume, there's only one thing I want."

"You callin' in a marker, cher? Best be careful wit' dat. Never know when I call one in on you." A faint, passing grin. "You might not like my terms."

He tried to draw his hand away, but Rogue squeezed it hard-- partly just for the unaccustomed, almost luxurious feel of human contact.

"Tell me 'bout the monster who took my friend."

"Who askin'?"

Rogue blinked. "You know who we are."

"I know LeBeau. *Gar ici, beb*, sixty years ago, I *was* LeBeau. An' I know yo' friends, or near enough. But you a myst'ry, cher. Too many ghosts in yo' head. Too like yo' momma."

"Mystique?" Rogue said. "What's she got to do with..."

The old man peered at her, cagey. "Can' be another person, cher, wit'out losin' bit o' yourself. Can' be de Rogue wit'out forgettin' how t'be anyt'ing else. 'Till you learn control."

He held up her hand and showed it to her in the dim light. Suddenly afraid, Rogue ripped it away... but she kept running her gloved hand over it, remembering the touch. She looked up at Guillaume, wondering if he could hear her pounding heart.

"You could... do that? Teach me to control my power?"

"Heh." Guillaume cocked his head at her, and flipped the pages of the book, and said nothing.

Rogue felt fire building at her fingertips. She reached out and knocked the book closed, grabbed Guillaume by the front of his shirt--

"Damn you, old man, are you tellin' me I can *control* this? D'you have any idea how long I..."

She stopped. Took a shuddering breath. Released him.

Guillaume grinned. "Thought you only wanted one thing, cher."

Rogue made a face, studied the books on the wall, wouldn't look at him. "What's it t' you?"

"Nothin', mebbe. But if I gon' give a gift, den it be *my* gift, an' I decide who gets it, an' why. You don' call in no markers on me, cher. *I* decide if de debt's worth payin'."

"Well, is it?" Rogue asked, a little bitter.

"Mebbe." She heard the pages turn. "Tell me 'bout de other night. How is it you only get one o' dem back?"

Rogue didn't want to tell this creepy old man anything. She wanted to spit in his eye and kick over his chair and storm out of his apartment. For her own sake, she would have. But she *was* team leader, and that meant she had to do what was best for the others-- assuming she could.

She took a deep breath, and began the story...

****

Richmond, Virginia
Two Days Earlier

Sophie Cuckoo had experienced a lot of strange things since arriving the American South of the 1860's. Most of them, no matter how odd, she found preferable to what she had been doing before the reality shift: namely, being dead.

Mucking stables, on the other hand... well, the death thing hadn't been *so* bad, right? Sophie sighed and wondered if her fingernails would ever get clean.

She was still wondering that when she experienced a sudden headache and was drawn into the place between time, where the Five-in-One group mind convened. No surprise to Sophie: Since the reality shift, impromptu interdimensional conversations with her sisters had been not just expected, but necessary to keep the X-Men together. (* see, well, pretty much every back issue) Now, though, the place she saw in her mind as a featureless black room was all but empty. Only one of her five sisters was waiting for her.

"Esme," she said, not exactly pleased. This was, after all, the sister who had once murdered her. "Where are the others?"

"I asked them to give us a moment alone."

"And they agreed to that?"

Esme smirked. "Well, perhaps I didn't *ask* them. They're not invited."

"How are..." Sophie looked around, a little stunned. "How are you blocking them out? This shouldn't be possible."

"Well, dear... one never knows what's possible."

Sophie took a step forward. She jabbed a finger at her wayward sister. Esme's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Don't test me."

"Sophie... luv, we're on the same side."

"Although you killed me."

"I've always had our best interests at heart."

"Until you *killed* me."

Esme crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, I heard you the first time. If we have to get into that, we'll be here all day."

Sophie scowled. To a point, her sister was right. The Five-in-One was reborn with a new purpose now. They were supposed to be united. That didn't mean she had to like it.

"What do you want?"

Esme paced a little circle around her sister, almost predatory. Sophie turned with her, unwilling to break eye contact.

"You're approaching a crossroads. I wanted to be certain you're prepared."

Sophie frowned. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Esme shrugged. "The timetable's moved up. Mindee's already fought the Slayer in her time (* eXcalibur: Eternity #3). Celeste's helped Betsy and Logan to foil his plans. (* X-Force #4). Phoebe's riding herd on Bobby Drake, at the center of everything. (* Uncanny #3-4). And then there's you, dear. What have you done for us lately, except die?"

"I've brought us this far." Sophie said, rising to the challenge. "When the time is right..."

"The time is now," said Esme. Her face was like looking in a mirror. A particularly snotty mirror. "The place is Elkhorn Tavern. Unless you're afraid to challenge him directly. Don't hesitate to say so. There's no shame in it."

Sophie frowned at her. "You've always held back. Why are you pushing now? See a chance to put me out of the way again?"

"If I decide to put you out of the way, dear sister, I will do it to your face so I can watch you beg my forgiveness." Esme brightened. "But cheer up. I don't actually plan to kill you. We're much more powerful with you. It would be wasteful."

"The power's for a purpose, Esme."

"Then use it," her sister countered. "Otherwise... we could seek a better offer."

Sophie set her jaw. "Don't *dare*. Don't even think it."

"Only a suggestion," said Esme. "Elkhorn Tavern. You know what to do. Have I mentioned how lovely you look... alive, I mean?"

Esme winked at her. The connection to another Universe severed. Sophie gasped. Then she looked down to find herself stepping in something nasty from the stables.

*Yes,* she thought, *that's the perfect metaphor for my day...*

She ran into the main house, looking for Cecilia Reyes. She found the doctor in the kitchen, rubbing her arm and glaring daggers at a wooden tub.

"Doctor!" she called.

"I don't believe it's not done yet. I need, like, a butter *winch* or something."

"Doctor Reyes!" Sophie skidded to a halt in the doorway and bounced on her heels while the reluctant X-Man declined to notice her. "Doctor, it's important!"

Cecilia glanced up. "Do *not* ask me to go out into that stable. This is bad enough, but that's where I draw the line. I have a *medical degree,* girl."

"It's the others, Doctor." Sophie did her best to keep her expression level. "They're looking for Husk and Chamber (* see last issue) in the wrong place. I know where they need to go next."

"You know that, because...?"

"Elkhorn Tavern," Sophie said. "It's in Benton County, Arkansas. The Ozark Mountains."

Cecilia grunted. "I asked how, and you told me where. Don't think I didn't notice that. Anyway, what do you want to do about it? Neither of us flies, and it'd probably take weeks to get to Arkansas... through a war zone. So unless your telepathy can reach Rogue halfway across the country..."

"What if I said it can?"

The doctor studied her with wide, slightly suspicious eyes. "Then I'd ask you how and you'd dodge the question. Why don't you save us both the trouble and just call her?"

"All right," said Sophie, smiling. "Get ready to fly."

****

New Orleans
Just off Bourbon Street

"Three o' clock, cher!"

"I got 'im, Remy!" said Rogue, turning just in time to avoid a throwing-star type weapon from a nearby doorway. Rogue didn't think she had time to be subtle, so she raised her hands and channeled her Sunfire powers into a fiery blast that blew out the door and part of the wall, too. Inside, according to Remy's sources, they'd find a couple of Assassin's Guild alumnus with a grudge against Remy's friend Guillaume-- the sort of people who might be willing to take down Paige and Jono in return for help with his assassination. (* see last issue.)

Rogue led the way into the darkened room, ducking under a roundhouse kick from a swarthy fellow with bad facial hair. Rogue caught his scraggly beard and used it to slam him against the wall.

"Y'all are fightin' outta your weight class, sugar," she told him. "Go cool off."

Using stored-up solar energy to enhance her strength, Rogue wound up and tossed him through a window. Not bad. She still missed her Ms. Marvel-level strength, but not bad.

She was still congratulating herself when another fellow almost knocked her block off. Rogue flew across the room and hit the wall hard. As a consequence of all those years she'd been invulnerable, she was better at dishing out punishment than taking it, but even so, she thought that hit had been a little hard.

"Heads up, Remy! These guys're just like their buddies... some of 'em got powers nobody in this time oughtta have!"

"We blamin' de Slayer for dat?" Remy asked.

"Who else?"

Remy dodged a blow from the powerhouse-- who might have been seven feet tall and was built like the Juggernaut. The Cajun flipped him off-balance with his staff, tucked something into the band of his trousers, and flipped away before the guy could make an issue of it. Frowning, the powerhouse glanced down at what Remy had left him-- an Ace of spades, glowing reddish pink. He looked back at the heroes with a puzzled expression--

--and then, BLAM! He was in the next room, and there was a vaguely Juggernaut-shaped hole in the wall he'd gone through.

Rogue frowned at Remy. "That's gotta hurt."

"You know I don' play nice wit' others."

"Down!" Rogue said, and Remy ducked just as another throwing star would have hit him between the shoulder blades. Rogue melted it with a gout of flame, then hopped over him and socked its thrower in the jaw.

She looked around-- there was just one more, who might have been some kind of energy wielder. He gave off a faint glow and threw a fireball at Remy-- but the Cajun dodged, and a moment later Sam Guthrie crashed through the far wall like the Cannonball he was and bulldozed the fellow. Rogue looked around. The room was clear.

"Who else but the Slayer?" Rogue repeated. "He helped Sinister create Marauders (* issues 1-2) an' now he's in bed with the Assassin's Guild. Dunno whether he jumpstarts mutations or uses some nasty magic, but... well, he's puttin' bumps in th' road for us *somehow*."

"Hate t' think he go to all dat trouble jus' fo' us," said Remy, casually delivering a boot to the skull of one of the thugs who wasn't quite down for the count. "An' here we din' bring him *anyt'ing*..."

Sam, meanwhile, was shaking the energy-wielder by his shoulder. "There was a man-- big, stocky guy in a trenchcoat. He kidnapped a couple of our friends. We want 'em."

The energy-wielder smiled and spat in Sam's general direction. He pulled back his fist...

Rogue caught it. "Calm down, sugar. We're just gettin' started here."

"Not so sure 'bout dat," Remy said. "Dis de third group of Assassins we bust up, an' we getting' *nowhere.* Makes me wonder if we don' chase de wrong fox."

"They could be anywhere," Sam sighed, dusting himself off. "We dunno *what* the range was on that portal he dragged Paige into. (* last issue) We're flyin' blind, countin' on dumb luck. Well, so far we're just dumb an' not so lucky."

Rogue frowned. "*Somebody* knows where he is. We're gonna find that somebody if we gotta dismantle the whole Assassin's Guild."

"Sho' nuff save *me* a lot o' trouble in de future," Remy said, grinning.

Rogue smiled. Sam changed the subject:

"Where's Warren?"

That was a sore subject indeed. Warren Worthington, the Angel, had been playing his own game with the Slayer entity-- one which he'd only recently let Rogue and the others in on. (* last issue) He claimed to be stringing it along for information and hadn't, strictly speaking, betrayed them with it... yet.

"He's overhead," Rogue said. "Sent him on recon."

"Think dat wise, cher?"

"Maybe not. I wanna see what he'll do."

Sam grunted. "What if what he does is sell us out?"

"He's been an X-Man forever," Rogue said. "The Apocalypse thing was ages ago. There's nothin' else to suggest he ain't playin' straight with us now."

"Mebbe," Remy said. "Only take one betrayal."

"Look who's talkin'."

"True. An' I'd be crazy t' trust *me* in a spot like dis..."

Rogue looked around what remained of the room, and favored the guys with a tight grin. "Anybody messes with us, he's in for some hurtin' Don't matter if he's demon... or Angel."

****

Warren Worthington perched on top of the building, overlooking Bourbon Street with the sun beating down on his wings. He'd seen the fellow with the long beard crash through the window, and had swooped down to save him-- although he'd still dropped him from a great enough height to knock him out. Besides that, he hadn't seen any trouble-- no reinforcements heading up to challenge Rogue and Remy-- and that was the important thing.

The other important thing was, he was alone. He waited until a shadow blotted out the clouds.

"She isn't here," he said. "You said if I played along, we could have Paige back. Where is she?"

--Patience, Warren Worthington. Your own teammates will soon lead you to her.--

"How do you know?"

The shadow sounded faintly amused: --Because I know my enemy. I know you all better than you know yourselves.--

"That's the sort of arrogance that's only been the downfall of about two thousand villains and counting. I really doubt you know what the X-Men are made of."

-- If I didn't, would you be working for me?--

"I'm not--" Warren bit that back. Save Paige first; *then* establish his independence. "What do you need me to do?"

--Why nothing... yet. Simply go where you are summoned. She's moving too fast, this time. I'm ready for her.--

"Rogue, you mean?"

The shadow declined to answer, but it did seem to like his change of subject: --When the time comes, side with Rogue. She will try to deal with me alone. LeBeau will object; be certain he does not interfere.--

Warren nodded. "They may not listen to me..."

--They will, if we give them reason to trust you again. Fear not, Warren Worthington. By this time tomorrow, you shall be a hero once more.--

He turned to it, or where it would have been if it ever stuck around to hear anybody's replies. It probably wouldn't have liked the one about shoving that annoying condescension down its throat, anyway.

That was when he heard Sophie's voice in his mind, and the next stage of the game began...

****

Now

Guillaume leaned forward, nodding his head in a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm. "Man break his word t'you. How you feel 'bout dat, p'tit?"

"Let's not talk about Warren," Rogue said. "That wasn't easy for anybody."

"What's easy ain't worthwhile. Might be, t'be worth anyt'ing in de long run, dis Angel o' your'n got to work his way through what ain't easy."

She shrugged. "At this point, I don't care. We'll finish this without him."

"Dat's cold, p'tit. What dey say 'bout dat... Hell hath no fury?"

"You have no idea," Rogue said.

"Careful wit' dat hate, p'tit." Guillaume reached over to the table beside his chair, carefully lit a candle in an ornate holder, and held it out to her. "You see de flame. Ain't much at first. Starts just as a spark. De more you feed it-- give it air-- de more it grow. Consume de worl', all from a candle. Catch it here, though, an' all you need is..."

He blew out a quick puff of air, snuffing the flame. Rogue wrinkled her nose.

"Did you just tell me somethin'? It went over my head, if you did."

Guillaume looked a little disappointed, but he deigned to elaborate: "Dis critter, de Slayer, he start small. Almos' no power at de first. More you use, more he take. Now he's strong. Can' afford t'make him no stronger wit' hate."

"Hate?" she asked.

"Evert'ing got to feed, cher. This fella, he feed on *you*. What you give him. Hate's a powerful source to feed on."

Rogue tried again to peer over his arms, at the yellowed pages. "Is that in the--"

Guillaume slapped the book closed. "What fo' you think you come here, cher? T'see a prophet? I ain't dat... jus' another *vieux*-- ol' man who seen his share. You think I got magic? Secret juju? All I got's a power like yours, an' power won' save you."

"What will?"

Guillaume cocked his head, as though deciding whether to give a serious reply. "Metal, mebbe, if he's magickal. Magicks don' like metal."

"I remember," Rogue said, thinking of the Adversary. Then she frowned. Come to think of it... "All black shadow n' all... is this the Adversary we're up against?" But Guillaume only bared his teeth and shrugged and didn't answer the question. "Okay, what else?"

"Not much dat's human. Mebbe an Angel. 'Cept you cast down your'n."

"I had to."

"For true?"

Rogue looked at the floot, struggling with a lot of things. She didn't want to address the old man until she could do so steadily and without blinking.

"I didn't want this to happen, with Warren," she said, at length. "Reckon he didn't want it, either. But he made the choice, not me. I'm just tryin' to keep my friends alive."

Guillaume grinned, a sharper-edged expression than she'd seen before. "How dat workin' out fo' you?"

Rogue remembered...

****

Two Days Earlier
Bentonville, Arkansas

For the second time in a matter of days, Paige Guthrie awoke with a headache. (* see last issue) This time, though, she hadn't even the slightest idea where she was, or how she'd gotten there.

Wherever it was, it was hot. Early fall didn't mean much respite from the heat, down past the Mason-Dixon, and the sun overhead was just about hot enough to fry an egg... or to fry Paige's metal husk off her body. She looked down at her hands; she must have been scalding to the touch.

"Dammit," she muttered. "What th' hell got into you, Jono?"

Jonothon Starsmore-- her teammate and ex-crush-- had been with her in the place where they'd been captured. (* last issue) Normally, he would have been the controlled, laconic one, moderating Paige's fiery temper. This time, though... he'd suddenly gotten very angry at their captors, ranting about the Slayer and... Warren Worthington, too. Paige had just enough time to brace herself by husking to durable steel before he'd blown pretty much the whole surrounding area to hell, accidentally-- she guessed-- knocking her cold. And now she was here. Very strange.

Especially the Warren thing. Paige knew Jono was jealous of her lover; she didn't flatter herself to think he still loved her, he never had when he'd had the chance, but he was just enough of a jerk to still act slightly possessive even though he didn't want her for himself.

Possessive, maybe. But outright lying... that wasn't Jono's style. And he'd gone out of his way to avoid making any accusations. So what was this about Warren?

Paige shook her head. More important things to think about. Right now, she was... she was on a hillside, she thought, looking down into a town. Paige suddenly wanted to laugh-- a girl made of metal, resting buck naked in full view of a town of 19^th Century hicks. If they found her here like this, they'd probably stone her for witchcraft. But she didn't know where else to go.

*Guess I'll have to sneak down there,* she thought. *Then I can...*

A shadow loomed over her. It belonged to a burly guy in a trenchcoat-- her captor. Paige sighed.

"Not you again. Mister, you are seriously getting on my nerves."

"Yo' friend was rude, *Pischouette.* Cause a lot o' damage."

"Send us the bill."

"'Fraid dat won' cover it." He reached down for Paige. "Got my own way to settle accounts."

Paige didn't resist. She let him grab her shoulder. He howled when he did. *Hot enough to fry an oversized goon, too*, she thought.

Paige didn't leave him any recovery time. She leaped to her feet and pounded blows into his abdomen. She knew from experience that he'd be getting back up again, but she just needed time to run...

Or did she? The sucker was lots more vulnerable to heat than to raw power, or so it appeared, and he didn't seem to be human (*last issue), so she didn't feel the need to play nice. And that sun overhead was *awfully* hot...

"Ooh brother," she whispered, "are you gonna wish you'd stood in bed..."

Paige morphed. She ripped away the steel skin to reveal a glass husk underneath-- one of her more difficult substances-- and directed a quick glance overhead. She took a half-step to the right, adjusting to reflect the light just so...

Her attacker was struggling back to his feet, but he didn't get far. Brilliant sunlight streamed into Paige and focused through her into a single beam, like burning an ant under a magnifying glass. Her attacker held up his hands and Paige burned right through them, scalding a hole into his chest...

With a final scream, he just... disintegrated, losing his cohesion and just... blowing away, like a pile of ash. Paige could still hear that outcry in her mind. She expected she'd be dreaming about it for a few years, even. But she hadn't seen another option.

The man's trenchcoat hadn't evaporated with him. Paige husked back to flesh and blood and wrapped it around herself, feeling vaguely disappointed that she wouldn't get the chance to see the townspeople's reaction to a kickass, naked, *see-through* mutant when she reached her destination. On the other hand, the lack of death would be nice. She started hiking toward the town...

****

Jonothon Starsmore was alone, and angry, and he couldn't see a thing.

He regretted now his outburst when he'd realized the shadow was manipulating him-- and possibly, from its actions, Warren too. It had felt good, for a second, to really cut loose on him and his cronies... but now there was the whole missing-time, missing-Paige, lost-without-a-night light thing.

--Yeh--, he said, telepathically "talking to himself." --That could've been done better.--

--Oh, no, actually it was just the jolt I needed. Thank you.--

Jono whirled, but he couldn't see anything around except the vague outlines of rocks. He was in a dark cave, and his enemy *was* the darkness.

--Sodding lowlife wanker!-- he thought at it. --Why don't yer come out an' fight?--

--Fight... against me? I think we've already established, that's a bad idea.--

--What's this game, eh?-- he asked it, still looking about for a face or something he could address directly. --Makin' me an' Worthington 'ave a go at each other, with Paige as the stakes? Flamin' middle school trick. Whatever else we are, we're X-Men. We ain't gonna turn on each other over...--

--Over what? Love? If you were not willing to do terrible things for love, Jonothon Starsmore, you would be the first.--

--Oh, that's cheerful,-- he said. --Yer might as well get off that. Paige and I are quits. I know it. I ain't going ter dance to yer...--

--Then perhaps I don't need her anymore.-- Jono came to a full stop, and a moment later, having observed his reaction, the thing started to chuckle. --Thank you, but I think I have precisely the leverage I need.--

--Fer what?--

A pause. Jono still couldn't see an opponent or an exit. He'd have given his left arm for either one.

--That was a significantly more powerful blast than you are accustomed to releasing,-- the Slayer said. --You didn't know what you could do until I made you angry. Who knows what you'll do if I make you jealous?--

--What good does it do yer?--

--I don't think you want to stay here, Jonothon Starsmore,-- it replied. --If you survive, we'll talk again.--

He couldn't tell the Slayer was gone-- the darkness all around was too thick-- but Jono did have a hunch he was right about the advisability of finding a new place to play. The ceiling collapsing pretty much cinched it.

Jono ran, down one tunnel and then another, with no idea of his destination or even which way was up. Someplace stable, that would be enough for a start.

But there was no stable place. Everything was coming down around his head, chunks of rock hitting at his feet or bouncing merrily off his skull. If he'd needed to breathe, he'd have had no chance, because the whole cave had been swallowed up in clouds of dust and dirt.

It was a fluke when he first started deflecting the rocks. A near miss knocked him off his feet, and while laying face-down in the dirt, Jono was frightened and pained enough to unleash a blast than incinerated the rocks before they could get near him. Basic stuff, but it gave him an idea, which he was able to execute better than he would have imagined.

Jono kept blasting at the ceiling, then outward in all directions, creating a sort of force field for himself, a protective bubble within which nothing could touch him. He remembered Ev using his copied power to fly once, how jealous he'd been that the other boy could come up with such versatile uses for Jono's psi energy. Now, apparently, Jono had just discovered one for himself.

--Cecilia Reyes, eat yer heart out,-- he thought, and pressed on now untouched by the hailstorm raging around him. Jono kept blasting until he found his way into a clear chamber and took a moment to get his bearings.

Three tunnel branches spread out before him. Jono judged the most light to be coming from the leftmost one, and ventured down it.

Half an hour later, back in the same room after completing an eloraborate circle, he decided appearances could be deceiving and tried the center branch, the one with the least swirling dust.

*Another* hour later, he tried the rightmost tunnel, by process of elimination.

An hour and a half after that, he returned to the chamber and leaned against a stalagmite in the center of it.

--All right,-- he thought. --Brilliant trick. Really, I've had a lovely time. Now, will yer show a bloke to the exit, or do I have ter reckon a way ter manifest a psychic drill?--

--Oh, Jonothon,-- said its voice immediately, --you can't think we're done yet. You've made progress, boy, but there's so much more for you to learn... and it will be my pleasure to serve as your instructor.--

Stuck in the black center of a mountain while, for all he knew, his friends were dying outside, Jonothon Starsmore wondered what the penalty was at this University for murdering the teacher...

****

Cecilia Reyes shot through the air as though she'd been blasted out of a cannon. (Close enough, at any rate, she supposed.) Within Sam Guthrie's invulnerable field, she was perfectly comfortable-- couldn't even feel the wind resistance-- but she wanted to hurl, anyway. Eventually she shut her eyes tight and tried to pretend she wasn't where she was.

"Apologies for th' ride, Doc," said Sam, shifting her in his grip as best he could without dropping her. "Couple-three more trips, we'll see 'bout gettin' you your frequent flier miles."

"Heh. Funny man." Cecilia sighed. "*How* many years until the Wright Brothers?"

"Aw. Now that hurts." Sam turned a barrel roll. Cecilia knew this because she dared to open her eyes for half a millisecond-- then squeezed them shut even tighter. "And they tell me what a nice young man you are. Sam Guthrie, that was downright vindictive."

"Just burnin' off a little steam," he said. "I don't like leavin' New Orleans. Assassin's Guild is there, that's where we oughta look."

Cecilia would have shrugged, if the strong hands under her arms weren't the only thing holding her back from an unpleasant and squishy death. "The kid said Arkansas. The kid seems to know things."

"How sure are we she's on *our* side?"

Cecilia considered that, didn't have an answer, and asked instead, "What do we know about Elkhorn Tavern, Mr. Wizard?"

Sam sounded annoyed. "Don't anybody else around here read?"

"I spent four years memorizing all 206 bones in the human skeleton. I could give a crap about who commanded who at Fredericksville."

"Fredericksburg."

"Whatever."

Sam sighed. "Elkhorn Tavern was the site of a battle between Union forces under Samuel Curtis an' Confederates commanded by Earl Van Dorn. It was the biggest fight in these parts, an' it helped keep neighboring Missouri in the Union. But it's a few months off yet; I got no idea what's there now."

"Great," said Cecilia. "So we're just gonna stop by the tavern for a beer?"

"Dunno about you, Doc, but I could use one."

Cecilia decided that was a fair point, so she kept quiet for the rest of the flight. She could have kissed the ground when she finally felt her feet touch it, but that wouldn't have been dignified, so she gave Sam a peck on the cheek instead.

"For not dropping me," she said, and winked. "I like a guy with good hands."

"Aw..." said Sam, turning crimson.

They'd come to rest, necessarily, some distance away from civilization, and had to walk for a little while. The tavern proved to be a big, white house at a crossroads with a fence and a couple of horses hitched nearby. Cecilia wouldn't have recognized as a bar in her time. When she asked Sam, she said the tavern was actually more of a local meeting place than anything, and was used for all sorts of things. Rustic country living.

Gambit and Angel were already waiting beside the fence when they approached. The former wore a blind man's dark glasses to disguise his unusual eyes.

"Anything?" Sam asked as they approached.

"Not sure, we just got here," said Warren. "Between my Yankee accent and Remy's... condition, we figured Rogue ought to be the one making inquiries. She's inside now."

A moment later, the door opened, and Rogue and Sophie appeared on the porch. They had to step around a skeletal old man with a long beard, who sat there whittling and didn't appear the slightest bit interested in moving out of their way. Not a sterling example of that famed Southern etiquette...

"Well?" Cecilia asked, when their group was reunited.

Rogue tossed the tavern a dirty look. "Bunch'a rotten ol' rednecks. They didn't think my behavior was 'appropriate for a lady'..."

"Well," said Sophie doubtfully, "you did grab that man by his Adam's apple and..."

"He started it!" She ran her hands through her white-striped hair and groaned. "Sam might have better luck, I dunno. Unless somebody wants to just spill th' beans."

"I told you," Sophie said, "she'll be along."

"Meanwhile, we just stand here like a pack a' fools, waitin' on..."

"Paige!" Sam exclaimed.

"Right. I just think we should have a better plan than..."

"No," Sam said, grabbing her arm and pointing. "Paige!"

Paige Guthrie was trodding up the path a short distance away, looking bedraggled and weary and clad in ill-fitting clothes. But she was very much alive, and even had about half a second to grin before Sam, covering the whole distance in one hopefully-inconspicuous blast, scooped her up and lifted her high in the air. She pounded on his shoulders, only half irritated.

"Put me down! Aw, put me down, ya big oaf! I'm *fine!* Sam, so help me, I'm gonna husk into something you wouldn't wanna touch in about three sec..."

She didn't half to finish the thought, because Warren Worthington was only a step behind Sam. He took over and kissed her deeply, and Paige didn't appear half so upset to be held by *him*...

"Aww," said Rogue. "Isn'at sweet? Happy ending."

"Don' trust happy endings," said Remy.

Cecilia had a better question: "Where's Jono?"

They put the same question to Paige when she was finished her liplock. She looked annoyed-- with herself, or Jono, or maybe both.

"Lost 'im," she said. "The jerk. He just went off on 'em, I mean *bang*. I tell ya, I've seen Jono tangle with Omega Red, but I *never* saw him hit anything that hard. When I woke up, he was gone."

"We'll find him," Warren promised.

Toward that end, they all looked at Sophie expectantly, but the girl shrugged.

"They should both be here," she said. "I don't know why he's not, unless..."

They heard a footstep behind them. Cecilia whirled...

The old man from the stoop stood there, grinning. He held in his hands the hunk of wood he'd been whittling-- now in the rough shape of a man. Cecilia saw there were other, similar statues stuffed in his pocket.

"Help you wit' somethin', *homme?*" Remy asked.

"You done dat already," said the man. Cecilia froze when she heard the accent: Not backwoods Arkansas. Even *she*, a longtime New Yorker, knew that. This fellow was from New Orleans. He tipped his cap to them. "'Low me t'introduce myself. I'm de Sculptor. Mebbe you know *mes amis,* eh?"

As he spoke, he dropped the whittled statue on the ground. It seemed to draw dirt and clay out of the Earth, adding to its own mass, until a broad-shouldered bruiser like the one who'd taken Paige stood before them. The other two statues, dropped to either side, underwent similar transformations. The X-Men fanned out, ready to fight, as the living statues stepped forward...

"Okay's, that's new," said Cecilia.

"Nope," said Remy. "Dat's very old, cher. Dat somet'ing lost to Guild history. Like Guillaume."

The Sculptor nodded his wizened head. "Friend o' mine suggested you might be persuaded t' kill dat ol' *bon rien* fo' me. Since y'all declined, reckon I got no mo' use f' you. An' now I think I withdraw. No stomach fo' violence, moi. Pardonnez..."

He took off at a run belying his fragile appearance, while his three hulking playthings advanced on the heroes.

"Somebody go after--" Rogue began.

Warren was in the air almost before she spoke. "I've got him!"

With a flap of his wings, he put himself beyond the grasp of the statues and took off after their creator. One of them lunged at Cecilia, pounding her forcefield with its massive fists. Sam blasted at another, but it dodged him, this time, and deflected him into the ground. Remy knocked the third off-balance with his staff, but it caught him by the shirt and threw him into the fence. He crashed through, and it advanced...

"Rogue!" Paige cried. "Heat! They've vulnerable to heat!"

"Y'don't say?" Rogue grinned. "Heat, I got."

She blasted into the air with a burst of plasma, picked out the critters she wanted, and cut loose with everything she had. The first statue caught fire and melted down to nothing. The second evaporated like a sand castle under the waves. But the third turned to Rogue a half-second before she nailed it, and its eyes seemed to shimmer black--

Rogue hit it, but it didn't just explode. Somehow it started a chain reaction, drawing power out of her, more and more, until it glowed as brightly as one of Remy's cards. Then it smiled, turned, and walked into the tavern.

"No...!" Rogue cried. But it was too late. The building went up like a firecracker, somehow ignited by her own stolen power. She flew toward the billowing smoke... it was far too late. Rogue returned to Earth near her friends, still confused.

"I don't think it'll be the Battle of Elkhorn Tavern anymore," Cecilia said.

"Elkhorn Crater, maybe," said Sam.

"Look," said Paige, as a black tendril of shadow emerged from the wreckage... and wandered in the direction Warren had gone. Paige yelped and took off after it, and the others followed.

Rogue wished she'd gone into another line of work.

****

Warren swooped low, caught the old man around the knees, and tackled him to the ground as they approached a knot of trees. He tried to gently restrain him, but the Sculptor brought up the knife he'd been using and expertly inserted it between Warren's ribs. Pain flared...

"Right," he grimaced. "Assassin's Guild."

He threw the knife away and let his healing factor deal with the wound, wondering if he'd ever get to the point Wolverine had reached, where temporary pain hardly registered because he knew it would heal. If this wound was any indication, Warren didn't think so. It hurt like hell.

He smashed the Sculptor's head against the ground until the old man's resistance ceased. He peered up at Warren with cagey green eyes that seemed almost to flicker black at times...

"Let's have some real answers," Warren growled. "Who are you?"

"Name's Jean-Pierre Arcenaux, of de New Orleans' Assassin's Guild. Who you t' question me, *homme*?"

"Think of me as an avenging Angel."

"Fo' true?" Arcenaux laughed. "I was dat, once."

"What are you doing here?" Warren pressed. "You're a long way from New Orleans."

"Same thing you doin'. Meetin' wit' a... business associate."

Warren throttled him a little harder. "Damn your Guild infighting. You hate Guillaume enough to make a deal with that... thing?"

"Ain't *just* business," said the old man. When he smiled, you could see he might have once been dashing. "Stole my love, once. Long time gone. You know all 'bout dat, non?"

"I'm not on its side," Warren whispered, deadly close to the man.

"It disagrees."

Warren heard footsteps behind him, Paige's voice crying out to him, and he just barely refrained from hurting the man. He sat up and looked around... and then Arcenaux grabbed him around the throat. The old man pulled him close and wheezed:

"Tell Guillaume *adieu*. You serve de Slayer well, *Monsieur Ange*. Starsmore is his. The rest... will follow."

Suddenly the man's skin was burning to the touch. Warren released him and jumped back and he just kept sizzling,-- right down to a charred skeleton that blew away, like one of his puppets, while a faint wisp of shadow snaked away from his body and disappeared. Warren sat beside where he'd been, almost in a panic, heart pounding...

"What did he mean," said Paige's voice, "'you serve the Slayer?'"

"I don't..."

"What'd you do to him?"

"I didn't!"

"I saw it!" Paige said. "The-- the shadow was there! Jono said... but I didn't believe him..."

More footsteps. Rogue and the others approaching. Warren looked to them helplessly.

"Couldn' help but notice de shady critter makin' his exit," Remy said. "Let's talk, mon ami."

"What'd you do, Warren?" asked Rogue. "You still tryin' to make a deal with it?"

"Still?" Paige exclaimed, near tears.

"No! This was... it wasn't supposed to happen that way! It said..."

"You might want to shut up now," Cecilia Reyes said. "Before your foot gets wedged all the way down your throat."

"But-- you have to believe me! Paige! It wasn't like..."

"How can I?" Paige whispered. "Jono knew, an'... an' he protected you! But..."

Warren's pride snapped, and he leaped to his feet. "If you're so convinced he's the better man..."

"You don't have a clue, do ya?" Paige snapped. "I never would've... it was over between us. But he's still a friend, Warren. You sold out a friend. Those people at the tavern *died*."

"No," he said deliberately. "It was all to... there were *reasons*...

"We'll square things in Richmond," Rogue said. "Take Sophie an' go. We'll handle this without you."

"No. You need me. I know it better than anyone."

"Yeah," his teammate agreed. "A little too well. Sit this one out, Warren."

"Rogue, dammit--!"

"Go on! Don't make me insist."

She turned her back on him and walked away. Remy and Cecilia followed, then Sam Guthrie with an arm slung around his sister.

"Paige..."

She glanced back for a second. Then, head buried in Sam's shoulder, she walked away. Warren swore a streak, wondering how the hell this happened... and then the shadows of the nearby trees coalesced beside him.

--It would appear she's chosen him. How very sad.--

"You lied. You said I'd be a hero."

--Well... isn't it all relative? You were very heroic... in precisely the way I needed you to be.--

"You son of a..."

--Remember, I can still kill her. With each day, my power grows. Do not...--

"No," said a voice.

Warren looked up. Sophie was still there. She approached the shadow, eyes glowing brightly.

"Get away from him."

It laughed. --You've failed, girl. You really thought your pack of brats could outsmart me?--

"It's not over yet," she said. She held out her hand, and something-- something bright-- struck near Warren, driving the shadow back a few steps. "Go. You've won today. It's rude to gloat."

--Oh, my dear girl... you are going to regret that,-- it said, and vanished.

Sophie went to Warren and patted his hand. "Don't feel bad, Mr. Worthington. It was my fault. I let her goad me into bringing you here. I should have known..." she sighed. "I screwed up big."

Warren didn't have much idea what the girl was talking about, but as they walked away he said, "Yeah, kid. Me, too."

****

Now

Guillaume tapped his fingertips together, looking like he wanted to laugh and cry, about half each.

"Po' Jean-Pierre," he said. "Never did understand de danger in makin' such deals. Y'know, cher, was a time when we was... close. Thought we might patch up de Guilds, work together. He wasn' so angry, den."

"What happened?" Rogue asked.

"What ever happen? De beautiful lady come into de picture." The old man stretched out his grin again. "For true, she was a good bit like you."

The tone of his voice filled Rogue with sadness, but she shrugged it off. She couldn't afford it now. "Well, anyhow, the Sculptor is dead, an' he tried t' kill you, an' I reckon that means you owe us."

Guillaume stroked his chin. "I tol' you what I can. What mo' you want from me?"

Rogue reached out with her hand-- her bare hand-- and grabbed his. "Something else happened next... something bad. I'm the only one who can set it right. But it can feed on me, like you say. It killed with my power. I can't fight it like that... with no control. I need an edge."

"So you do, cher," he said, looking weary. "Got some idea what you might be here to ask. I expect we can do business."

She took a deep breath. "What's the catch?"

"What if I say it cost yo' soul?"

"Then I'd pay it."

"I know you would." Guillaume put aside the book with apparent difficulty and rose from his chair, his ancient bones creaking along with the wood. He paced over to the window, keeping his back to her. Rogue could only guess where his thoughts might be drifting...

He repeated, "I know it. Tell me exactly what happen next. Don' leave nothing out. Den, if you want, I he'p you fix it. An' den we talk about de cost."

Rogue sighed, and swallowed hard, and told him.

END

In Issue #5: Rogue Mission
See the other Eternity series: Uncanny X-Men, New X-Men, X-Force, & eXcalibur, coming soon!
Next Up: eXcalibur #4: "Constant As the Northern Star"